Will the Real Hipster Please Stand Up?

So, my friend recently talked about how she's an accidental hipster, and at the time I was all "that's kinda weird; you're either a hipster or you're not." It seemed pretty obvious that anyone who listened to records and sported large glasses was a hipster, and that was it. End of conversation.

Sooo hipster

But then something strange happened--more and more people started defining me as hipster. I mean, I get it. I'm at Webster's pretty much every moment I have a second to breathe. I do yoga. Come at me. But I also am freakishly obsessed with glitter, pop music, and hot pink--all aggressively anti-hipster things. It wasn't until my friend explained that I was a true hipster because I was so indifferent to my "image" and just wore and listened to whatever I wanted, that I realized a great cultural shift is happening right before our very eyes.

Friends, the great hipster shift is coming. Brace yourselves.

We're now witnessing the great divide between the poser hipster and the true hipster. Those who try to be alternative are mainstream, and those who admit to being mainstream are hipster. I never thought I would see the day where I apologetically listened to Katy Perry and start getting labeled as alternative. I don't go in search of music that no one has ever heard of (unless it's Lindsey Stirling because she's amazing; don't ever fight me on that) because if I do try to bring up an obscure band in conversation, I know I'll have this give-away expression of hipster-ness. I don't know what a hipster expression looks like, but it can't be good.

While I've gotten more comfortable with this title of "accidental hipster," my friend gave me a label that better fits: I am a quagmire. I engage in hipster activities and have a hipster personality, but I almost always prefer mainstream music, books, and shows. Like, sometimes you just need some Zooey Deschanel in your life. There's no hidden deeper meaning in that. Sometimes you need some T-Swift to tell you to shake it off (and whatever Taylor says, goes). But these more mainstream forms of entertainment are so looked down on, it's almost cool and edgy to like them.

So where I'm going with this is that my 6th grade self was ahead of the times for being obsessed with The Cheetah Girls. At least that's what I tell myself at night. 

In ten years, all the new poser hipsters will probably love pop music and wear little black dresses and accidental hipsters will be ashamed of their beanies and typewriters. It's a vicious cycle.



Namaste.

Chasing Chaucer: The Plight of the English Major

So, as those in English at Penn State are aware, we are required to take a course on early British literature. As I'm trying to keep it a secret that I'm an English major who is not well versed in the classics (shhhh), I did my very best to feign excitement about this course. Fortunately, every student who has taken/is taking this course says it's terrible, except for grad students in training, who say things like "let me suggest that the agency of women..." Even my roommate, who is pretty much a literature genius, came back from that class with a look of fear in her eyes.

Needless to say, (except I'm saying it, so hah!) I wasn't exactly thrilled to face Engl 221 this semester.

As our class dove into the texts, however, a strange thing happened to me. Not only did I not want to shoot myself in the face after reading, I found myself enjoying the texts. I mean, Le Roman de Tristran let the hopeless romantics such as myself indulge themselves in the idea of true love. Beowulf was chopping off arms left and right and fighting dragons like a badass. Even Sir Gawain, a story that put me to sleep in middle school, made me want to drop out of school and start fighting green men with magical powers.

#lifegoals.

Then we got to Chaucer. And let me tell you, I have some things to say about this guy. 

Don't give me that look

First off, this isn't a direct complaint to Chaucer, but more so to the geniuses who compiled the Norton Anthology of English Literature. Every old and middle English story has been translated enough so that you can have some clarity about who the characters are and what happens--two essential traits in a story, in my humble opinion.

Then you get to Chaucer, and all of that is thrown out the window. Reading comprehension, who needs that? Why not just speak a bunch of gobbledy-gook and pretend you know a totally different language??

I know, I get it. It's middle English. But just like the middle child, it's irritating, takes forever to understand, and everyone forgets about it.

I mean, honestly. How am I supposed to read this without making my brain explode?

 

But then by time you actually have an inkling of the prologue to The Canterbury Tales, you realize it's actually dreadfully boring. Chaucer takes an entire chapter to list out every single character and describe their best/worst traits. I swear, it's like speed dating, minus the inappropriate attire. Like, if I ever were forced to meet 29 people in the course of an hour, I'd kill myself. It's certainly not any better to read about it. 

While the actual tales are slightly more thrilling, there are parts that make me question why this is presented as sophisticated literature. For those of you that aren't familiar with The Miller's Tale, basically this married girl and some guy fall in love and trick the girl's husband into thinking there's a flood so that they can spend some time together (doesn't everyone?). While they're shacking up together, some other guy who's into this girl demands a kiss from her. The girl thinks it's hilarious to stick out her behind so that the guy kisses her ass, and then when he asks for another kiss, the girl's lover sticks out his butt and farts.

That's the highly abridged version, but you catch my drift. Chaucer is writing fart jokes, everyone. I feel like I'm in the 4th grade. 

I mean, honestly! All I ask from an author is to make an insightful comment or two about the nature of love, and leave people's butts out of it. All I got from this is that these people need to cool it and learn some basic manners. Oh, and not to sleep with people when they're married, but...priorities. 

Maybe I've failed as an English major. But I just cannot for the life of me understand the appeal of Chaucer. 

Understanding Girls: The Breakup Hair Edition

So the other day, my friends and I were discussing the purpose of breakup hair. Breakup hair, in its purest form, is the drastic alteration of one's hair cut, color, or style immediately after the termination of a relationship.

Basically, it's an excuse to shell out $200 for the sake of emotional cleansing.

I myself have taken it to a whole new level and made breakup tattoos a thing, though I wouldn't advise it. #lifechoices.

But we're not here to talk about me, okay? We're here to reveal the true meaning of breakup hair. Hold on to your hats, guys, 'cause stuff's about to get real here.

My guy friend, who is perpetually perplexed by stuff girls do, claims that "girl logic is when you dump someone then try to make them jealous by looking extra good." One of these things is not true.

While I try not to generalize and I can't speak for all girls, it's hardly fair to say that we're a spiteful species that tries to tear out guys hearts by dumping them, only to make them feel worse because we hop out of hair salons looking like Heidi Klum. It doesn't matter if you're on the giving or receiving end of a breakup--you still want to outwardly show that you can move on, that you can look hot, and that maybe it took being single to realize that you were destined to be a redhead. Or something.

After feeling the immediate sting of loss, there's not much to look forward to. There's that sense of "I'm waiting for a new person to fill this void," irrational as that may be. While that void goes away with time, breakup hair allows that immediate sense of urgency to go away. When you're anticipating a new person, you have no control. You have no idea when Johnny Depp a new guy will waltz into your life. However, when you're anticipating a drastic change in appearance, you know that an exciting new thing will happen next Thursday, at 3:00 PM. It may be a distraction from all the new unknowns in your life, but hey, it's more constructive than alcohol or staying up till 2AM watching The Notebook.

I'm not trying to fool the male species and claim that breakup hair is "100% all about me." I'm sure many a female who has gotten breakup hair can attest to the fact that we want our exes to notice that there is something different (hopefully for the better) about us. But it's a little too simplistic to say that we want our exes to be jealous, or regret ever losing us in the first place. Perhaps we want to invoke some curiosity, but we're not maliciously going "haha, I look better now than I ever did when I was with you!"

Obviously the reasons for getting breakup hair vary from girl to girl. But guys, if you suddenly see a girl sporting bubblegum pink hair, don't automatically assume she's trying to make her ex cry himself to sleep. In the words of Jenna Marbles, "girls are magical unicorns," and we're a little more complex than that.